Ossia
by HC247
Summary: :a musical term for an alternative passage which may be played instead of the original passage. In this case, a collection of POTO one-shots in different what-might -have-beens. Various pairings. Heavily E/C. Up now: Erik must put his big-boy pants on and learn to use his words.
1. Confiteor

Perhaps against my better judgment, I am attempting fictober this year. Each piece will be based on a daily prompt of the fictober list from Tumblr. Maybe this is actually phictober...

#1 "Can You Feel This?"

* * *

 ** _"Christine!"_**

With a weighted sigh, Christine shut the door behind her as she stepped into the foyer of the house on the lake. Her name was a roar across the surprisingly considerable space and, only seeking to delay the inevitable, she slid the kid gloves from her long fingers with care and shrugged out of her winter coat. Humming a jaunty tune, she turned to hang the coat on its hook as the sounds of heavy footsteps drew near.

With an exhale and a final tug on the coat for bravado, Christine pasted a tight smile upon her lips and spun lightly as her husband entered the room. "Hello, darling. How was your morning?"

Erik studied her in silence for a moment, his sharp eyes running from the top of her chocolate curls to the tip of her pointed shoes. Every nerve in her body stood on alert as his perusal, pricking with a guilt that should not be. Finally, he spoke, his words deceptively calm. "Uneventful, if I am to be completely honest, which of course," Golden eyes bore into hers as they narrowed. " _I always am_."

A hearty chuff drew the sharp gaze away momentarily as Erik speared his guest with a glare. "I would beg you to mind your own matters, Daroga," Erik growled at the kitchen doors.

With a scoff, Christine moved forward with a "That's nice, dear," and a peck to his unmasked cheek before stepping about him to greet the third member of the trio. "Hello, Nadir," Beaming up at him, she placed another kiss to his weathered cheek. "How kind of you to come by for breakfast with Erik while I was at service."

"Ah, yes." Erik stalked to her side before the Persian could manage a reply. "Such a saintly wife, I have, wouldn't you agree, Daroga? Bound in matrimony to a monster such as myself and never fails to atone for such sins every Sunday. Tell me, Christine, was the _Saint-Chapelle_ as...crowded as it is every holy day? "

She paused a moment before answering, meeting Nadir's eyes which were lit with equal parts amusement and pity. He grinned at the nearly imperceptible shake of her head before her attention was turned back to the expectant gaze of the masked man before her. "While I'm sure it was, I did not attend _Saint-Chapelle_ today, Erik." Tossing a glance back at their guest, she tilted her head in challenge. "But I gathered you knew that considering Nadir was here."

"Quite right," he returned, stepping past her and blocking her path to the Persian. " In fact, interestingly enough, the Daroga did advise me that he crossed your path this very morning. Right outside of _Notre-Dame de Paris_." His eyes flashed dangerously. "Where _the entire DeChagny family_ also happens to be in attendance today."

Christine shifted from one foot to the other. "Yes, that is true. In fact, all of Paris knew they would be there today. What of it?"

" _What of it?_ " Erik very nearly sputtered, fingers curling into a fist. "What of it, indeed? Tell me, Christine; after all of these years, has this life, this face become too much for you? Hmm?" When she did not answer, the other hand flew to the mask, ripping it off in one smooth motion. "Would you rather not spend your golden years staring into a face as beautiful as your own rather than this corpse that grows more hideous with every passing year?"

With a snarl, he spun on his heel, elegantly storming out of the room leaving the two remaining occupants in stunned silence. The slam of the bedroom door broke the spell and Christine turned her eyes back to the Persian. "How long has he been like this?"

"Oh, the better part of an hour," Nadir replied, moving to the decanter and pouring himself a considerable glass of brandy. "I certainly did not mean to bring any trouble to your household."

She shook her head in response. "None of this is brought by your hand," she acknowledged, accepting the small glass of the amber liquid he offered her. "I should have told him the truth."

"You did nothing wrong, my dear." Nadir sipped thoughtfully for a moment before offering. "Erik has never been a rational man," Meeting her gaze, he chuckled slightly. "Especially when it comes to you."

"Point is taken, Monsieur," she returned with a slight smile. "Still, this madness must cease. We cannot live the rest of our lives under this shadow of distrust." Placing the glass aside, she strode forward and picked up the mask that lay discarded in the hall. "Give me five minutes."

The Persian quirked a brow as she strode resolutely toward the bedroom, but said nothing as he followed her soft footsteps.

"Erik?" Christine knocked once, heaving a sigh when she found the door to be locked. "Erik, really. Open the door this instant."

"I much prefer to be left alone, if you don't mind," came the muffled reply.

"Oh, of all the mule-headed, childish...Nadir!" The man appeared, the glass of brandy still in hand. Gesturing to the door, she smiled brightly. "If you would be so kind..."

Catching her meaning, a devilish smile appeared on his lips. "I must admit that it has been some time, but perhaps with some assistance..." With that, he downed the remnant of the glass, passed it off to Christine's hand and, with a few well-placed kicks, smashed through the old wood with much more ease than Christine would have believed possible.

At the sound of the crash, Erik had leapt off the bed and now stood on the opposite side of the room, positively seething. "Daroga! Are you mad?"

Nadir simply lifted hands in surrender as Christine marched past him. Handing him back the glass, she again pressed a kiss to his weathered cheek with a brilliant smile. "My thanks, Nadir." That smile instantly darkened when her gaze fell upon him. "Sit down, husband," she commanded. "If you are _quite finished_ with your theatrics, it seems a discussion is clearly in order."

Erik blinked in surprise but speared the Daroga with another glare before accepting the mask from his wife's hand and dropping into the nearby armchair. Turning his glower onto Christine, he asked, bitterly. "Have you come to bid your poor, decrepit husband goodbye at last? I would not be surprised if even now, _that boy_ has ordered his fine horses to be at your wait."

" _That boy_ ," she bit out, tone even as she took a seat across from him on the bed, "was my childhood friend and I will not have you speak of him in such a fashion. Certainly not today."

"When I am in my home, I shall refer to anyone however I please," he sneered.

"Not when your wife has just returned from their funeral mass," she whispered, meeting his glare with equal potency. "Not when you should be comforting your wife who has just lost her oldest friend and returns home to find an angry and jealous husband." Despite her best efforts, a few tears began to escape and run paths down her cheeks. Across from her, Erik stiffened in his chair but offered nothing further. "I am very well aware of your hatred for him and I am not asking you to change your opinion, but please...just for today...is it too much to ask you to put it aside and think of your wife who is hurting?"

Erik swallowed hard. "Christine...dearest, I.."

"Don't. speak." she demanded, eyes flinty despite the free-flowing tears. "Give me your hand." When he did not move, she commanded again. "Damn it, Erik, give me your hand!"

This time he did as she asked, scooting to the edge of the chair so that their knees were nearly touching. Despite her anger, Christine drew him forward, closing her eyes and held his hand against her cheek for a moment, taking a strange comfort in the thin, bony fingers that seemed to never end. Opening her eyes, she took a few deep breathes to calm herself and held Erik's stare as she placed his hand over her breast. "Tell me, Erik," she questioned, voice even once more. "Do you feel that?"

He blinked, seemingly uncertain of her meaning. "Your heartbeat?" At her nod, his brow rose and he asked, flippantly. "What of it?"

"What of it indeed!" she replied, mocking his earlier inflection. When his gaze darkened in warning, she pressed on. "That is the very 'it', Erik. Don't you see? My heart beats _only_ for you, you foolish man. It has these last five years and it will continue to do so until I take my last breath."

Pressing his hand harder against her chest, she leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to his lips, pondering aloud. "How long will it take for you to realize that?"

He released a shuddering breath. "Forgive me, Christine."

With a sigh, she lent into him, relief flooding her soul when his free arm came to encircle her waist. "Always, my love."

"Personally, I think the woman is beginning to rival Christ himself with regard to forgiveness," Nadir quipped from the doorway, nursing a fresh glass of brandy in his hand. "Perhaps I should recommend her canonized at the next opportunity."

Rising her head from Erik's chest, Christine chuckled even as she felt her husband growl "Shouldn't you be on your way, Daroga? It does seem you have overstayed your welcome, per usual."

"Nonsense." Christine countered, rising from the bed, pulling Erik to his feet as she stood. "Nadir, I insist you stay for dinner. Please?"

With a cheeky grin to the Opera Ghost, the Persian assented. "It would be my pleasure, Madame."

"Excellent!" Still holding her husband's hand, she led both men into the sitting room. "Why don't the two of you begin another game of chess while I prepare supper, hmm? If I recall, you have yet to beat Erik this year."

"While I'm sure that fruitless challenge would excite the Daroga, I am afraid I have other matters that must be addressed before the night is out." Pressing a kiss to Christine's curls and another whispered plea for penitence, the Opera Ghost strode to the front door, fetching his wide-brimmed hat and cloak from their pegs. "Moreover, Daroga, did you so quickly forget?" With a hand on the doorknob and a malevolent smile, he added, "You have a door to repair."


	2. Pure Imagination

Thank you to those of you who have reviewed so far! I hope to hear from you (and any new readers!) again.

Up Next: A little Halloween Bash! Modern A/U

#2 "People Like You Have No Imagination

* * *

"Erik!" Christine sighed aloud, fighting to keep her the mascara brush steady as her eyes lifted to the ceiling of their own accord. Of all nights to be running behind. "Please tell me he's almost ready," she muttered, one eye screwed shut while the other went wide as she applied a generous portion of the black liquid to her lashes. _Meg is going to murder me if we're late tonight._

 _Murder_ might actually be a bit of an understatement this case. In reality, it was more likely her best friend would not only murder her (and Erik by extension) if they missed this party but then proceed to harvest every viable organ and sell said organs on the black market. Christine shook her head as she capped off the mascara. Maybe she could just offer Erik as a sort of consolation prize to appease Meg's wrath. If they were late, it would be his fault, after all.

"Erik!" she called again, a note of urgency in her voice that had not been there a moment ago. "Let's go, mister! We _can't_ be late for Meg's Halloween party! She has been after me to meet her boyfriend for nearly a month." Grabbing the pair of black stilettos that sat in the entry, she seated herself on the bench in the foyer and slid them onto her feet. "So help me, if you are not down here in two minutes, I will tell Nadir about that time that you got drunk off of Nyquil and belted out "Toxic" like a plastered sorority girl."

Heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs and she nearly sagged with relief as his long, lean frame came into view. "Only a few thoughts to counter those threats," he remarked, his voice still beautiful in its wry humor. "First, Nadir will not be there tonight as he is out of town with Antoinette which leads to the fact that Meg is having is illustrious gathering tonight. Second, as I recall it, you were "belting it" right along with me. And third," She could almost see his brow raising behind the full black mask as he ticked each point off on his fingers. "As much as you try to be, you could never be that cruel."

Christine rose from the bench, suppressing a smile as she countered, "Maybe, but I was considering offering you as the sacrificial lamb, so to speak. If we're not there early enough, Meg is going to want retribution, at this point, probably in the form of human life." Allowing the smile to bloom, she leaned up to press a kiss to his exposed jawline. "As much as I love you, I was not the one who waited until the last possible moment to get ready."

"But you _were_ the one who insisted that we attend this soiree," he grumbled, turning to fetch his shoes from the closet. "I would much prefer to stay here with you."

"You can grump all you like, Erik. it changes nothing. Meg is our friend- yes, yours too. Don't give me that look!" she scolded, planting hands on the hips of her red and black gown. "As much as you try to deny it, I know you like Meg. One night out won't kill you, you know." Her eyes narrowed as she got her first good look at him. "Wait a minute. Erik..." Her hands moved from the hips to rest on her arms as they crossed over her chest, taking in his dark suit and black mask that left only his lips and chin exposed. "Where is your costume?"

One shoulder lifted into an elegant shrug as his other hand gestured down the length of his body. and he scoffed, "I'm wearing it, of course"

"No," Christine countered, resisting the urge to press her fingers to her skull. "You're wearing clothes- the same clothes you wear every day."

"Not true." Holding up a finger, he replied. "The mask is new."

"Erik.." Flipping her dark curls over her shoulder, she tried again. "Where is your "angel" costume? The theme is "topsy-turvy", remember? I was going as a devil and you as an angel?"

"And that is what I am," he insisted, a small smirk playing on his lips. "A fallen angel."

"A fallen...oh, good grief. Erik!" Christine cried. "Are you trying to drive me crazy? We are essentially the same thing!"

"Beautifully ironic, isn't it?" He grinned down at her, no doubt enjoying her exasperation. Drawing her into the circle of his arms, he pressed a generous kiss to her full lips as he chided, "Really, my love. Have you no imagination at all?"

"This is payback for making you go to this thing, isn't it?" she said flatly.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, Christine."

"Right," she deadpanned, easing herself away from his and retrieving her jacket from the hall closet. "Well, for my sake, please try to be somewhat charming tonight."

Erik glanced over at her as he pulled on his own coat "Aren't I always?"

"Of course, darling," Christine soothed. "Shall we then?"

Erik opened the door with a sigh, offering his arm to her as she passed him. "If we must. As you said, I am rather fond of Miss Giry and I would appreciate retaining all of my faculties." With a quick glance to his watch, he remarked, "And if we leave now, we should arrive in plenty of time to avoid any danger of illegal organ harvesting on anyone's part."

"Fantastic." Pausing in the doorway, she allowed her shining eyes to roam appreciatively over his figure. "You really do look quite dashing, Erik." Her fingers tightened on his upper arm as she drew near and whispered against his lips. "Perhaps later I will have the chance to show you just how active my imagination can be."

Blood pounded in his ears as he allowed her lips to ply at his for a moment, his hand dipping from her waist to rest on the curve of her hip. She arched against him a moment later as his long fingers dug possessively into the flesh there and her free hand grasped his lapels. She kissed more again, then a third time before withdrawing and he puffed a breath into the crisp fall air at her wicked smile. "How intriguing." he returned, voice hoarse.

"I know," she chirped, leaning her head against his shoulder as their car pulled up to the curb. She allowed Erik to help her inside and tucked herself against him as he took a seat next to her, relaying Meg's address to the driver.

 _"No imagination",_ he had said.

Her eyes flicked up, catching Erik's steely blue-green gaze, which softened immediately at the sight of her. She offered him a sweet smile before glancing down to her lap and leaning her head under his chin.

They would go to Meg's party and be the supportive friends she needed tonight.

But after that...

Christine felt a smug smirk form on her lips.

After that, Erik would see just how _inventive_ she could be.


	3. Careless Whispers

_**A short** **piece for a prompt on Tumblr from wheel-of-fish - "Things you said when you thought I was sleeping."**_

* * *

He had found her in the library, stretched out on the chaise, eyes closed, mouth agape with one arm thrown carelessly above her head and a well-worn copy of _Jane Eyre_ discarded in her lap. He felt the left corner of his mouth lift in amusement at the adorably irresistible sight before him and he stepped closer to place a hand on her shoulder before murmuring her name. "Christine."

She awoke at his touch with a start and a snort, causing the smile to creep further up his lips as she blinked up at him, eyes wide. "Go to bed, ange. It's nearly 11:30 and Gustave has been asleep for hours."

"Erik…" Even the roughness of sleep could not hide her incredulous tone. "You _woke me up_ just to order me to go _back to sleep_?"

"In your own bed," he clarified in a voice that suggested that his actions were perfectly reasonable. "You'll be much more comfortable, I assure you."

"I was perfectly content where I was before you barged in, thank you very much," she muttered, stretching the cramped muscles of her arm and tossing a glare in his direction for good measure. "If we are to make this arrangement work, you would do well to learn when to leave a woman alone with her dreams."

The visible brow arched high. "And do you wish to be left alone, Christine?"

She smiled through a sigh, despite herself. "Since I seem to be awake at the moment.." Sitting up, she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward and down until he was seated next to her on the chaise. She stood, ignoring his questioning eyes as she settled him against the headrest with a light push to his chest. Once he was comfortable, she seated herself between in front of him, drawing his left leg up on the cushions with a gentle hand on his thigh, finding herself cradled snugly between his long legs as a result.

Christine lifted an inquiring glance to his face and when he gave a short nod, allowed herself to lean back against his chest. "Perfect."

He couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped him. "I am pleased that you are happy, my dear. But, are you sure you wouldn't prefer to-"

"Erik, stop," she commanded softly, nestling her head on his shoulder with a satisfied sigh. "Just hold me. Please. All I want right now is the feeling of being in your arms."

She knew he could deny her nothing- he would give her the world should she but ask- but the simplicity of her request twisted his heart and he felt his throat burn and tighten, breath staggering from the tears that threatened as he gingerly folded her within the circle his hold.

"Hmm.." Christine murmured, snuggling deeper into his embrace, drawing his right arm securely around her waist linking the fingers of their left hands together to rest on his thigh, tilting her face up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "This, right here," she admitted, tightening her grip on his hand. "This is all I need."

He could only stare down at her as she tucked her head primly under his chin, relaxing against him as her eyes fell closed. He lay stock still for several moments, content to watch the rise and fall of her stomach as she fell back into the rhythm of sleep, a series of steady inhales and exhales that served as irrefutable proof that she was not lying dead on a Coney Island dock and was _well_ and _alive_ and _here_ with him.

With a heavy exhale, Erik allowed his own eyes to slide close as his head fell back against the top of the chaise. Be that as it may, his tortuous brain still mocked him with thoughts of one question that remained uncertain: Yes, Christine was here for now. But how long was "now"?

If his current situation was any indication, his mind was quick to assure him that he had nothing to worry about. After all, she had remained after her initial recovery of her own accord; he had not asked it of her. Granted, half of that reason was for fear that her answer would be negative in nature and sometimes it was better to just ride these things through until answers became necessary.

The boy certainly seemed to be adjusting well. It was rare that Erik could find a moment's peace from the lad's never-ending questions and comments, which Christine assured him only came from the boy's fascination with the elusive "Mr. Y" and his world of secret wonders.

If he were being honest with himself, he secretly found himself just as attached to his newly-discovered son and, quite frankly, relished every moment in which he acted as a magnanimous host and tour guide. Once or twice, he had caught Christine watching clandestinely from the shadow with a small smile on her lips and a suspicious sheen to her dark eyes. Of course, Gustave would question him about one matter or another and by the time his gaze sought her out again, she was gone, leaving him to wonder if he had dreamt her presence as he had for the past ten years.

That thought drew him back to the present, to a world where he lay in the library with the woman he loved nestled securely in his hold and where his son slept contentedly a floor away. If only this current moment could be his permanent reality! Surely she knew he longed for nothing else…

With a sigh, he leaned forward to rest his good cheek lightly against the dark curl of her crown. Working his fingers free of her grasp, he smoothed the hair away from her forehead, tilting his chin down to gently kiss her brow. "Oh, Christine," he whispered against her pale skin. "How I wish I could hold you like this every night. Would you let me, my love? Would you, at last, wear my ring on your hand, let me share a life with you and Gustave?"

With a sharp inhale, Erik drew her closer, held her a little tighter. "If only I had the courage to say these things to you while you wake, but I find myself too much of a coward to face the fear of any possible rejection from those beautiful lips. Forgive me, Christine. Forgive me for my selfishness, my damned weakness." His next breath was a shaky exhale as he forced the words from his throat. "Forgive me for praying you would wish to stay."

A response came, just above a whisper, jarring his senses. "Then ask me, you dolt."

Erik's eyes shot open to find Christine's staring back, an exasperated smile gracing her lovely face. "You heard?... But...but I- I thought that you were…"

"A light sleeper as I always have been" she quipped, eyes dancing, but expectant. "Go on, then" He merely blinked back, stammering slightly as she stared up at him. "Erik...look at me."

He did, eyes falling closed again as she lifted a hand to cradle his masked cheek. Summoning a courage that felt nowhere near enough, he ventured, tentatively. "Will you stay, Christine? You and Gustave... remain here with me. Please.?"

Her smile was tired, but no less dazzling as she reached up, pulling him down and tilting her chin up to meet his lips as she replied, with no hesitation, a whispered, but emphatic, " _Yes_ ".


End file.
